


Dearest

by stephanericher



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-31 01:56:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10889340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: Wish you a successful career.Tatsuya xx





	Dearest

**Author's Note:**

> i know very little about letter-writing in china, so apologies for the stuff i undoubtedly got wrong. p much everything i tried to put in comes from [this post](https://chinese.stackexchange.com/questions/2191/informal-ways-of-beginning-ending-an-e-mail) on se--if you have a better resource on contemporary epistolary culture in china i'd love to see it....
> 
> anyway! prompt was liuhimu + letter writing culture from monmon (tysm)

Tatsuya never seems to write his parents. It’s an absence Wei doesn’t notice at first, but the more time they spend together, the more times Wei sits at his desk dutifully handwriting a page for his parents, physical proof that he’s a good son who hasn’t forgotten his native tongue, the more obvious it becomes.

“Do you ever write home?” Wei asks, when he’s finally done with his latest, sliding it into the envelope and getting up from the desk.

Tatsuya watches, not speaking until Wei tucks himself back into bed, managing to fit himself in what little space is left over.

“Not really. I talk to my parents on the phone; there’s nothing else we need to say.”

If only it were that simple. “I call my parents, too, but—don’t they expect a letter?”

“They didn’t tell me to write,” says Tatsuya, propping himself up on his elbow. “Maybe it’s a cultural thing?”

Wei hums; even after having lived in Japan for two years there are still a lot of things about the culture here he doesn’t get or doesn’t know, and letter-writing etiquette is definitely part of one of those categories. And even if it wasn’t, he’s picked up enough to know that Tatsuya’s family’s pretty Americanized in some ways, and maybe letter-writing is one of them.

“Like, what would I say? Dear Mom and Dad, How are you? How is everything back at home?”

“Isn’t that too casual?” says Wei.

“Not really,” Tatsuya says, snuggling up against Wei’s chest so Wei can feel his breathing through the thin fabric of his shirt, and Wei forgets everything about his parents and letters and the right way to send a greeting.

* * *

“What kind of stuff do you say in those letters?” says Tatsuya, leaning over Wei’s shoulder.

The whole thing is in Chinese; Wei doubts it makes any sense to Tatsuya but lets him look anyway.

“The usual stuff. I greet them, give them well-wishes, talk about things here, that kind of thing.”

“That’s your name,” Tatsuya says, pointing to the bottom.

Wei rolls his eyes. “Is that the only thing you recognize?”

“Well,” says Tatsuya, but he doesn’t continue (bluffing will only get him so far).

His lips are pursed as he scans the page; it shouldn’t be this fucking cute.

“I can translate it? If you want?”

“Isn’t it private?”

“Not really,” says Wei.

“What’s that second line?” says Tatsuya, pointing.

“I’m giving them well-wishes,” says Wei.

“Oh?” says Tatsuya. “Is that a convention?”

“Yes,” says Wei.

Tatsuya’s eyes flick up and down the page; he points to another sentence and it’s not long before Wei finds himself explaining the intricacies of epistolary etiquette as he’s been taught, until Tatsuya asks him for reasons that as far as he know doesn’t exist and about choices he hasn’t even been consciously making.

* * *

After that, Tatsuya doesn’t ask him much about letters, or comment much about what Wei’s writing. He hasn’t taken up writing to his own parents, or to anyone else. He’d seemed interested, though; Wei figures it’s only a matter of time before it pops up again.

Wei’s almost forgotten about the whole thing by Golden Week, when he’s going home to spend time with his family and Tatsuya’s staying in Akita. It’s only a week, but Wei can’t help but see it as a precursor of the future, when they’re going to inevitably split off and go their separate ways, and he definitely doesn’t need to be thinking about that now.

Tatsuya’s elusive the day before he leaves, and the night of he comes into Wei’s room bearing a tin with an envelope taped to the top.

“Take this with you,” he says.

Wei reaches to open it; Tatsuya reaches out to stop him.

“Wait. It’s not for now.”

Wei scowls, but then Tatsuya’s in his arms, kissing him and slipping his hands under Wei’s shirt and causing enough of a distraction that Wei decides that it might be better until he waits until he’s on the plane.

He opens the envelope before takeoff; people around him are still getting settled and Wei’s given up on being able to fit his knees in this seat with any semblance of comfort. It’s a folded sheet of paper, and it’s then Wei remembers talking about letters. He unfolds the paper to the salutation.

 _Dearest Wei,_ the letter begins, and fuck.

Wei crumples the letter in his hand; is that the word Tatsuya had wanted to use? Knowing him, it’s purely intentional, but it’s also easily explainable by his shaky knowledge of Japanese etiquette and the written language, and everything he does seems to be on a continuum of one to the other and either way it’s fucking with Wei’s head. The woman next to him gives him a scathing look, conveying that back in her day kids weren’t so disrespectful. Wei smooths out the letter; he’s probably not ready for the rest of it but he’d rather get it over with and figure out some way to deal with it as soon as possible.

_Dearest Wei,_

_I hope things are going well with your studies._

Wei snorts; he can see the tongue-in-cheek nature of the words even though on the page they’re indistinguishable from the rest of Tatsuya’s messy scrawl.

_And your love life._

That’s not even appropriate here; they’re the same age (hell, Wei’s a few months older), but he doubts Tatsuya would care even if he’d known; he’s just looking to amuse them both with asking about something of which he already knows the details.

_I made you these almond cookies to take back to your family. Please share with your brothers and give them my best regards. I hope they are in good health. Don’t eat all the cookies on the flight._

(Who does Tatsuya think he is, Murasakibara?)

_Wish you a successful career._

_Tatsuya xx_

Wei wants to laugh (because it’s funny as fuck and it’s so Tatsuya), except he already misses Tatsuya terribly, wishes Tatsuya was there to read it to him with a sly smile, stealing a cookie for himself and spilling crumbs everywhere, actually kissing him at the end instead of just tacking on a couple of letters to the bottom of the page. He sighs; it’s only a week and he’s going to be home (and even if he wants time and space to miss Tatsuya the kids will make sure he doesn’t have any). But he’s got the rest of the flight, the flight back, whenever anyone asks him about the people he’s met in Japan, and how’s he even going to begin to explain Tatsuya? Maybe he’ll just let the cookies do the talking; he opens the tin and pulls one out.

It melts in his mouth, sweet and nutty and just the way Tatsuya knows he likes them, and damn. Even if Wei doesn’t have time to miss him, he’s going to anyway. And he’s sure as hell going to tease Tatsuya about the proper way to write a letter when he gets back, or maybe before if he can, send a few messages Tatsuya’s way (because no matter how he hadn’t said it, Tatsuya probably wants to know Wei’s thinking of him).


End file.
